


Unison

by winternacht



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Episode Related, Fantasizing, M/M, Masturbation, Voyeurism, Worship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-17
Updated: 2019-11-17
Packaged: 2021-02-07 18:16:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21462415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winternacht/pseuds/winternacht
Summary: Elias watches Jon while he reads his statement and thinks about how different things could be.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 22
Kudos: 129





	Unison

The Watcher’s Crown was the pinnacle of Jonah’s and Robert’s studies. Perfect balance achieved through architectural genius infused with a deep understanding of the dread powers, not one stone out of place, not one variable left to coincidence. Fearful souls, handpicked with the help of Jonah’s Archivist, found their demise as the sky above him parted in lightning, an Eye threatening to open after eons of undisturbed sleep.

Then the night sky cleared, and the Eye remained closed. But not without leaving a gift behind – opening his eyes to the world. Still, it provided him with no insight as to why it had failed. Back then, he suspected it might have been the emergence of the Flesh, disrupting the patterns they had painstakingly discovered.

His name was William when he made another attempt at the Watcher’s Crown, relying not on Architecture but on pure symbolism, wearing a grotesque crown adorned with eyes that witnessed the fears. Eyes that were easily deceived and blinded when the Stranger’s ilk infiltrated the ruins of the amphitheatre he had chosen as the site of the ritual, claiming the site as their own.

This time, Elias forgoes excessive symbolism, though he cannot resist leaving his office in favour of the small room on the Institute’s top floor. All it holds is a finely crafted stone altar, placed beneath a skylight. On the night of a full moon, its light would filter in, dipping the surroundings in a silvery glow. Not that it would make a difference, just as it makes no difference that today it was an overcast afternoon on an unremarkable date. But as he lies down on it, it is with a measure of satisfaction that Elias notes that the Institute’s two hundredth anniversary is just ahead. Information the other factions are surely privy to, preparing to strike and disrupt if need be. Utterly clueless to the fact that their attention should not be focused on the Institute but on the simple cardboard box Martin Blackwood has just received from a trusted courier.

Through his eyes, Elias sees the effort Jon makes to resist opening the first file he takes. It’s not the file on top, but Jon hardly notices, so reliant on his knowledge, so easily guided. But he has grown more disciplined over time. Able to let his thoughts drift away from the statement for a few moments longer. Until the door closes, leaving him to the calm and quiet he preferred while reading. Merely for concentration’s sake, early in his development. Now to hide the shameful satisfaction he gains from gorging himself on fear, eyes alight; to hide the immediate disappointment upon realising it hasn’t stilled his appetite after all, because reading words that have already flowed out would never be enough.

It won’t be enough now, either. A matter hardly worth the consideration. But as Jon starts reading, eyes wide with understanding, his hands clenching around the paper, Elias finds himself wishing Jon were here, instead. Laid out before him, greedy and hungry, as Elias feeds him morsels of secrets until he begs for more. Secrets that are too precious to commit to paper. Does Jon know how hard it was to lay the pen aside? To still the trembling of his hand as his skin prickled with the sharp bites of a thousand needles, as Jon’s power sparked through him without Jon’s knowledge, simply filling him with a subconscious satisfaction that left him stirring in his sleep. Elias yearns to see the satisfaction in his eyes when he whispers his secrets in Jon’s ear, one day.

The distance does nothing to stop Elias from shivering as he listens to Jon relaying his own words to him. Can Jon feel how Elias felt when he first saw him? The mark of the Spider already etched deep into his psyche. Trying to hide his inexperience underneath academic knowledge, insatiable curiosity and eagerness breaching the veneer of polite but distant interest when he asked questions about the Institutes work. So ready to be shaped and moulded into the perfect Archivist. His perfect Archive.

Elias palms himself through his trousers as Jon’s voice brings the memories back to the forefront. Memories of studying Jon’s habits, of watching him navigate the negligible but still present danger the work of a researcher for the Institute entailed. Of discovering the twitch of a smile when Elias praised his accomplishments, the little flush of red on his cheeks. And when Elias offered him a promotion, he agreed without a second thought. 

Elias’s tongue flicks across his lips as he listens to Jon recount his first serious test. Can Jon feel the twitch of his hand as it closed around the lever, waiting until Jon had almost, almost succumbed to the Hive’s song before he finally activated the gas release?

If Jon were here, Elias would have bared Jon by now. Leaving Jon to draw the statement from him as Elias mapped out the constellation of Jon’s scars with his lips, relished and shared in the fear every single one had caused. Working his way up from the slim, silvery thing just above his ankle, to the one in his thigh, enlarged by the corkscrew.

Feeling the hollows beneath his ribcage the Boneturner left behind. Can Jon feel how proud he was, when he saw him? How pleased, how aroused? He must know. Does Jon also know how relieved he was? Does he know that the reason for that was twofold, after all?

All too gently, Elias would kiss the scar along the side of his neck, left by the knife of the hunter, so dangerously close to his carotid. Elias can feel it pulsing against his lips, even now. How much faster would his blood race if Elias lightly drew his teeth across it?

If Jon were here now, Elias would claim his lips, his breath in a kiss, not letting up until the memory of the fear Michael Crew had instilled on him suffused them both.

He would fill the void of the Lonely with his presence, leave Jon writhing under the weight of his attention, under the gaze of their Master, who looked through Elias, as well. Whose mark Jon had chosen. A fleeting thought interrupts the fantasy, making Elias’s hand still around his own cock, already so painfully hard against his palm. How easily could he fall prey to Peter just now, had Jon spared him?

But this is all in the past, now. The statement is coming to an end, and Elias’s hand drops to the side after he tucks himself away, clutching the edge of the altar to calm the restless energy, smearing precome on the stone. If Jon were here, Elias would have given in to the indulgence of pushing into him, unhurried. To feel him clench around his cock, to feel his breath against his neck. To feel him tremble in anticipation of their Master’s advent as he drew the incantation from Elias’s mind and let it spill forth willingly from lips kissed red and swollen, as Elias recited the words along with him, their words mingling, their beings intertwined in every way beneath the Ceaseless Watcher, drinking in their fear and worship.

In his hiding place, Jon pushes back against the words, fighting to raise his hands to his mouth. Regrettable, but ultimately meaningless.

In the end, there is no need for an altar. No need for a ritual. No need, even, to share a room. And as they call out to the powers in unison, the distance between them vanishes, and for just a moment, they are one, before their connection snaps brutally apart.

And this time, the sky does open, and the Eye Elias has seen countless times in countless dreams gazes down upon him for the first time.

Jon’s role has been fulfilled. Elias has no need for him anymore.

And still, Elias turns his attention towards him again, to see the reflection of the Watcher in his eyes, and just for a moment, his mind cuts back to the image of Jon lying underneath him, clutching at him, breathless and joyful and terrified and awed.

The sky is looking at Jon. And Jon is looking back.


End file.
